It didn't take long, no it was far less than Micah would have liked, for reality to come crashing back down on him.
The lingering warmth from Clyde's voice, that soft, dangerously disarming "Baby…", evaporated the moment noise filtered in from outside the bedroom. The faint clatter of utensils, voices, and movement.
The sweet bubble shattered completely, forcing Micah to face the reality, the fact that he had just humiliated himself beyond repair.
His body went still in Clyde's arms, the earlier dazed softness draining out of him in an instant. His hazel eyes sharpened, the warmth in them flickering out, replaced by something far more volatile, something prickly and defensive.
And then, just as quickly, that familiar spark of indignation flared. A flicker of injustice.
Micah's brows drew together. His lips pressed into a thin line. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his head. And then, he bit him.
